I love how I’ve let this place go. Everything in this shriveled up brain of mine is getting lost somewhere between me thinking “Oh, it would be funny if I blogged that,” to: “what the hell was I going to say again?” In fact, I have no idea what sort of sputtering sentence fragments are shooting from my fingers right now, it’s all just pouring blindly from my brain, down my arms and out of my hands.
And I probably don’t remember because every day is Groundhog day in this house. Except, as the Meester pointed out, it’s not, because at least Bill Murray could find interesting ways to kill himself on a daily basis.
We moved the Mini into his bed, and it has been steadily downhill ever since. I really and truly did not want to move him into the bed, but Little Girl was outgrowing the co-sleeper, and it was time to bounce the kid from our room and get her into her own space. I’d have considered the pack n’ play in our room, but we were sick of having to tip toe around at night, as she’s a much lighter sleeper than the Mini is. And on top of that, she hates the pack n’ play. She much prefers our bed and it’s usually where she ends up after that middle of the night feeding.
Since moving him into a bed, he’s stopped napping. Which has made our lives a living hell. He needs the naps, but because he knows he can get out of bed, he prefers to go through and read every single book, or play with every single stuffed animal. Because of the lack of naps, he is a ripe asshole in some way, shape or form. It’s exhausting. He’s either insanely hyper and defiant, or he’s meltdown central, crying over every single thing imaginable. If anyone has any sort of ideas on how to get him to nap that doesn’t involve duct tape or drugs, I’ll gladly listen. Hell, I might listen if you do have creative ideas with duct tape.
On the upside, the LG has taken to her crib pretty well. She generally only gets up once a night. The time varies, but she ends up sleeping later in the mornings because she’s glomed onto me. She is HUGE. And I mean huge. She’ll be three months next week and she’s probably 25 inches and she weighs nearly 16 pounds. She is outgrowing 3-6 month clothes. This is fucking insane. I thought she’d be all dainty and shit like I was as a baby. She will most likely end up on cereal early because she’s already eyeing up my pork chops and practically able to grab them. She’s about ready to roll over. She can get to her side, but not all the way flipped over. Overall, she’s a happy baby. Except for bedtime, in which she has a breakdown in the way only a woman can. Complete with a sound that resembles a demonic angry chipmunk trying to catch its breath.
And because I don’t want to disappoint you with another lame entry about my kids. I leave you with something funny. A quick recording of the Mini saying swamp taint. Who says kids aren’t good for something. Polly want a cracker?
Swamp Taint! (and thanks to the iPhone’s new voice recorder, stay tuned for more of these little gems).